Redemption (Dawn of the Damned Book 1) (11 page)

Anja enjoyed the silence that settled over the house once the whole party left for the ball, using the time to paint the image of her mother laughing in the gardens that Old Torben had just freshly tended to, as she most liked to remember her mother.

She painted her in the grey dress that she often wore, its lighter shaded collar turned down, her lips widened into a held back laugh, as she watched her play with the butterflies in the garden, Old Torben leaning against his rake as he watched after her too. Joy. That was the image she used to describe the emotion.

“It’s beautiful..” she was so startled upon hearing him speak behind her that she jumped, accidentally kicking at her cup of water with soaked paint brushes, which tipped over the work and ruined it all.

Even a picture of her mother’s happiness she was to be denied.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean too..”

She turned his way with so much anger, that upon seeing her eyes he started back, as though scared of her, or the expression of anger on her face.

How preposterous! She thought to herself! He only wished to mock her.

“How dare you..? What are you doing here?”

“I came back early..”

“You maybe thought that with my brother absent, you could take some liberties with me, like when I’d been a child, maybe get some delicious half-blood..!”

“No! I assure you that isn’t it..” She was now blinded by rage, and a desperate need to once and for all set to right that which had gone unpunished for too long.

“You came here after meeting with your parents at the ball, and them reminding you just how good I used to taste, huh? That’s why you came back earlier, to get just a little taste of that which you once upon a time took so freely..”

“Anja..”

“Never again, you hear me!” She was now on him, slapping at him, flaying his skin with her nails, sinking her teeth into him as she attempted to protect herself, but it never registered in her mind that he wasn’t fighting back.

“I won’t let you do that again, not without a fight,” she went on, shredding him apart, throwing him across the room, rushing after him when he attempted to get away.

Her predatory instincts then kicked in, and all she wanted was to hunt him down, and hear him whine with pain, so when he started running, she started hunting him.

“I can hear you, pure-blood! Oh please do make it a more interesting chase!” She taunted, powered on by her desire for revenge.

She wanted him scared, she wanted him cowering away from that which was now inevitable, her continued feeding on him. Just as she lay scared many afternoons as she waited for suppertime, and the feeding that would follow after.

“Oh, come on! The guest wing, really? I have keys for that..”

“You are not yourself!” He called back, and she could hear him bolt one door after another. She chuckled to herself bitterly before answering.

“We can’t be sure now, can we? For I will never know what it is to be myself. Maybe when I take back all the blood you took from me..”

“Snap out of it.. You could drain me!” He cried out, as she opened the first door to the guest wing that he’d bolted.

“Mayhap,” is the simple answer she gave after the lock clicked open, but upon pushing the door, it remained jammed. He’d stuck something behind it. The ancient chest of drawers in that hallway.

“You don’t even like the taste of my blood! It does nothing to you!”

She didn’t answer him yet, but instead kicked in the door hard, sending the massive door and ancient furniture set behind it flying across the guest hallway.

“Oh, but I do enjoy your panic after I take one drop after another,” she said, stepping into the corridor and walking leisurely, her senses corked to smell his scent, or see any quick movements he might make, or listen to his much lower sounding heartbeat than that of humans.

“Your emotions as I feed on you make for a rather.. enjoyable venture.”

Got you!
She thought to herself pleased, stepping into the sunroom, finding him poised with the ancient knights sword ready to attack, that he must have taken from the knight armour in the hallway. She’d heard the clink and then the crash as the armour fell, but she just assumed he’d fallen with it.

So he had a weapon, and so?

“A sword? Are you now going to cut off my head after taking my life’s essence from me my whole childhood?” She questioned, her words laced with venom as she gave off a bitter laugh. “What’s that saying among John’s people? Ahsante ya punda, huh?”

“I.. You are not yourself..”

“Aaargh!” she growled at him, leaping towards him like an enraged tiger, swinging away in time before his sword landed on her.

“I told you,” as contrasted to her growl, her words were quietly delivered now, and he could swear she once again looked like the timid teenager he remembered from childhood.

“I told you, I don’t know who I am. So how can you? I’m like a broken mirror of a thousand shards of glass glued together. Most parts don’t fit, placed in the wrong places, many pieces lost, and other crushed to grains too small to be glued back. I can’t remember ever being whole. I’m also just like the scattered images reflected in that mirror, hundreds of incomplete scattered images,” she continued with her low voice, the raw emotions behind her words touching the pure-blood.

“I’m broken!” That she called much louder, putting him on alert again. “I say, I’m broken, and if feeding on you can make just a small part of me whole again, I swear I’ll drain you!” As she completed the threat she leap onto him. The sword smacked her hard across her shoulders, so hard that if it wasn’t blunt, it’d have chopped her hand right off.

The intensity of the delivered blow sent her flying across the room, but she managed to stop her fall with her feet sliding across the carpeted floor, and wasted no moment in bounding back his way with clear ill-intent.

The pure-blood swung again, but she was prepared this time, managing to fake, so that he completed his blow, which only sent the sword cutting through air, before she leaped on him clear, wound her long legs around his midsection, imprisoned his arms apart as they were with her hands, and then sank her fangs into his neck.

He writhed and writhed in place, managing to break his hands free to come hold her by her waist and try pull her off, but the more blood she drunk, the weaker he became, and the stronger she became.

And then something else began to happen to Anja, to both of them, they began to get aroused, and soon Kjeld was not attempting to pull her away, but was holding her close, closer, crushing her so tight to him with his arms to stay on him.

Anja barely noticed the changes until it was too late. Her thirst for revenge drove her at first, and then there began to grow another hunger, another need, and before she knew what was happening, she was furiously rubbing herself on him.

She wanted to take more from him, but she wanted to give him no pleasure. So when he tightened his hold on her so, she began to beat at him, hurt him, claw him, until he was forced to loosen his grip. She was slapping his face as she tore his clothes from him, but the pure-blood was seeking her mouth to kiss it, despite the pain she was giving him.

They wrestled so, but finally his lips found hers, and when she began to feel him enjoying the kiss she couldn’t stop herself from giving him, she bit him on his lip.

He cried out with pain, but she pulled him forcefully to her lips, pushed his folded knees apart with her lithe legs, and made his manhood find her waiting mound.

Though this was the first time she was to do this, and there being a great novelty behind the act, if books, poems and self-proclamations were to be believed, Anja did not wish it to be special like all others seemed to. Well, it was special, for she was getting her revenge. She’d take it from him by force.

She’d rape him.

With one of her hands under his chin, pushing his head back against the cold floor, so far back that she risked snapping his neck, she used her other hand to pin his arms above his head, and then she rode him like one rode a racing horse. Hard and fast, like there was no other race after this one, and when she felt him about to spend himself, she’d slap him so hard his head would loll to the side, and then she’d proceed to ride him.

It must have been hours, and she was on her umpteenth climax, when she heard the others get back.

Shit!

She wanted one final release though, that’s all she was thinking, as she pounded him harder, sweat and blood intermingling on their bodies, his face oddly pale- good!

She was just on the verge of another, began to feel the constricting of her muscles, and though she could hear running footsteps their way as the newcomers realised that there had been a violent fight underway, her brother probably thinking the worst, Anja instead concentrated on that growing tension about to b..

But before she could get her release, the pure-blood under her came undone, spilling his seed inside her, filling her with his scent, the look of pleasure on his face annoying her so much that she swung her arm wide and landed a very hard and loud slap across his face.

That’s when the rest found them.

“Anja!” Her brother cried out, a mixture of relief, confusion, anger- all summed up in his voice.

“I’m alright,” she simply said, rising to her feet that were astride her victim, dropping her dress to fall past her knee, and stepping away to turn to face her brother, leaving Kjeld exposed and weak on the floor.

“Are you sure?” Her brother rushed to her, investigating her face and neck, realising to himself that she had no bite marks, and that all the blood on her was Kjeld’s, which puzzled him further. Then realisation hit him and he began to smile, despite himself.

“You took your proverbial pound of flesh?” He asked.

“I did,” she answered, an equally wide smile on her thin face stained bloody, her hair wet from blood and sweat stuck to her face and scalp.

“Good night everyone,” she then said, stepping out of the room, not wasting a moment to turn around and see the state of the man she’d just defiled.

Here was indeed proof that living with other Draugrs did make one more cruel than they were before.

Brunch the next day must have been the most tense, awkwardly silent meal the Nordskov family and their houseguests have ever had.

Xiu, the half-blood woman acted almost protectively of her Governor, as she couldn’t really be termed as his mate, if their arrangement was only sexual. This seemed to annoy the young Governor, who wanted to prove that he was alright, and that all which happened was by his will. But not even once did his eyes venture to his attacker.

Jon was equally puzzled, wondering if Kjeld was actually hurt, or if he hadn’t inadvertently gotten all he’s ever wanted. Kjeld had long harboured feeling for Anja, and even last night, he’d only left the ball early with hopes of catching her before she retired to bed. Had he planned it all, faked it, or had it just been a lucky coincidence? And Anja- bloody heavens! Who’d have thought she had it in her?

Pendo was just happy that on her man’s face was a look of admiration for his former object of affections, and not jealousy. She’d often wondered if he really was over her, or only thought so because he hadn’t seen her move on as yet. But catching her in so compromising a situation last night had sealed that box of doubts. He was over her, and only saw her as a darling sister.

Ejner was just proud of his sister, but hoped with all hope that her defiling Area One’s Governor would not soil their political alignment. Kjeld Gunnarsen, or Bjarnesen, as he now prefered to be called, was the only other liberal governor, and liberal governors were needed, if only to secure the future of his beloved daughter. Conservative minds needed to go, and the more liberal pure-bloods he had on his side the better.

As for his daughter, Raven, she was the only one that wasn’t thinking of her aunt, as she had come back much later after the rest of the party. In her mind were thoughts of the lovely Síle and her wild red hair and beautiful piercing green eyes. She could hardly wait to get her aunt to her side and tell her all that had happened at the ball, and about how regal Síle had looked, and the fact that she might have looked her way too with appreciation.

Should she invite her over for supper some time? She wished to ask her aunt. What if she said no? Oh! Why does love have to be so uncertain! For that is what she thought it was, love.

Their house guests spent the rest of the morning and a great deal of the afternoon packing, as they were to leave early that evening, soon after supper.

During supper, Kjeld’s eyes chanced to meet with hers, when she turned his was suddenly, right before he could avert his gaze. However what she met there surprised her, as she thought to have detected a hint of interest, underlying in those blue rings.

An interest in what exactly? That single thought bugged her after their guests left, and she was left to listen to Raven’s recount of all that happened at the ball.

“I think you ought to invite her, and maybe her brother, here at the family home for supper,” Anja told her niece, combing out her hair later than night before bed.

“But.. then she might think it only a business dinner..”

“Not if you are the one doing the inviting. Just don’t mention your father. What business could you possibly wish to discuss with them?”

“You are right,” the young woman said with a giggle. “But just think if father should decide to start talking politics with her brother. She’s bound to join, for she so much likes to discuss current matters, plus she’s so very clever..” Raven went on dreamily, which made Anja chuckle to herself.

“Should he start to talk politics, I’ll be sure to stop him and turn the conversation around..”

“Oh thank you, auntie!” Her niece called, throwing herself into her arms and holding tight. “Thank you, for I wish her to think me clever, but I hate politics so!”

“Then we shall divert the conversation to things you like most.”

“But not about hairdos, clothes and shoes, for I could talk forever about fashion, and that only puts me out as an airhead.” Anja laughed at this.

“How about music and poetry..”

“Oh yes! Perfect! I could talk forever about those two, but in this case I’d appear quite clever.”

“Then it’s settled,” Anja told her, laying the hairbrush back on the dresser before stepping back. “Now go to bed child, and don’t obsess about her..”

“How could I not? I love her!” Raven declared passionately, throwing herself head first onto her bed, sending Anja out of the room chuckling.

“Have a good night!”

“You as well, Aunt Anja,” Raven called before her door slid shut.

Anja was emotionally exhausted as she began to undress, and when she sat before her dresser to brush her once again lovely auburn mane, she spied a letter hidden behind the wide mirror.

She dragged it out, to find it addressed to her, with a foreign handwriting.

Kære Anja,

My father just sired a half-blood with a servant, now seven months old.

Choose to hate me, or help me save her life.

Kjeld.

~The end of Book 1~